Sarah's Story
by Alix Cohen
Summary: How Sarah Armstrong, cunning linguist -but don't say it to her face- came to work for Hungary. Yaoi Agents AU; USUK, UKxOC, JapanxOC, Austria/Hungary.
1. Lights

My father's family can proudly trace itself back to a signer of the Magna Carta. My mother's doesn't go back quite so far—her parents were Polish Jews who'd survived the Holocaust, and took every opportunity to tell me their story. After my bat mitzvah, I started reciting it along with them. They took the hint and stopped. I quickly (and with few regrets) moved on to studying my father's family history. The Armstrongs had had an ancestor at every major battle and political movement in English history.

The summer I turned twenty-two, I spent a month in London visiting some distant cousins. And that's how I met Arthur Kirkland.

Lord Armstrong (my great-uncle) and Lord Kirkland were two of a very few real lords left in what was now the British Senate. One of my cousins introduced us at some kind of dinner for Senators and their families. He was barely older than me; definitely a little young for politics. And he'd come to the dinner alone.

He turned out to be a student of British history; we hit it off amazingly. My great-aunt noticed, and did everything in her power to make sure we saw more of each other. "He's a lonely boy," she said when I asked about him. "He's lived alone for a hundred years; don't you think he deserves some happiness?" At the time, I thought she was exaggerating, smiled, nodded, and forgot about it.

Kirkland and I kept in touch online over the next couple of years. I finished my master's in linguistics, and spent the summer after that working for him. It was great—I wasn't much more than a secretary, but I got to meet all kinds of interesting people from around the world, speak with them in their own languages, and get closer to Arthur.

He'd been distant early in the summer—he blamed it on an awkward breakup—but I worked him back out of his shell. Maybe I did a little too well; the first time we had sex was in mid-July. Not that I'm complaining—that night, I felt like the whole weight of the Holocaust had been lifted off me, and replaced by something that fit me much better. My world was no longer the one my mother's parents lived in.

* * *

><p>The next day or two was wonderful…but then I sensed that Arthur was pulling away. At first I thought he'd suddenly remembered that he was my employer; but no, there was something deeper going on. Finally I asked him what happened. He gave me an odd look. Then he went down to the kitchen, found a bottle of sherry, and got drunk enough to tell me.<p>

He wasn't just Arthur Kirkland, the second-rate politician, he said unsteadily. He was England, and sometimes the whole United Kingdom, in some nebulous metaphorical way, and there were other people out there who were Nations as well. I didn't understand at first, but over the rest of the month I reasoned it out, and the strange people I was dealing with over the phone and online began to make sense. Arthur began telling me stories about his childhood, and I gained a new perspective of history.

Then he said one thing at the beginning of August that almost ended it all. In the interest of honesty, he said, and because he was offering me a permanent job on his staff if I could handle the truth.

He hated to say it (he said), and had put off telling me because he didn't want to hurt my feelings (he said), but he didn't love me. Couldn't, because he was a Nation and I was a human. "Don't get me wrong," he said, "I need you. I am, in part, defined by my relationship with you—and that's a great thing politically, because it keeps the goddamn newspapers from asking questions."

"So that's it? It's all about politics?" I asked bitterly.

"You're helping to keep the existence of the Nations a secret. If I were single for too long at a time, people would wonder whether I was a homosexual."

"And are you?"

"That's beside the point. They would ask, I'd be looked at more closely, and someone would discover that I've been working for the government, or the royal court, for as long as records have been kept. They'd keep digging, and the Nations would be discovered."

"What happens then?"

"Chaos. Power plays. Governments and corporations would fight for control of the Nations, even though that's not how we work. We reflect the will of the people; we can't control it. But the ones in power wouldn't understand that. The whole structure of the world would fall apart. So I need you, to help me keep that from happening. Do you understand?"

I didn't, at the time. I just felt hurt and angry. "So _are_ you gay?"

Arthur sighed. "Not as such, it's more like—" and then his cell phone rang. It was Alfred, the United States of America, calling to ask Arthur out.

* * *

><p>I refused to talk to Arthur that night. There was too much going on in my head. I'd gone into what I thought would be a great job and a healthy relationship, and had ended up as a political gambit for a bisexual immortal who didn't even love me.<p>

I felt no better the next morning, and was startled out of my gloom by the house phone ringing. I answered with a fake smile. "Kirkland residence."

"Am I speaking to Sarah Armstrong?" The voice was female, middle-aged, and German.

"This is she."

"So, is Mr. Kirkland everything you dreamed of?"

_What the…_ "May I ask who's calling?"

"This is Dana Einstein of the Hungarian Ministry of Culture. I would appreciate it if you could meet me for lunch at eleven today." She named a café I was familiar with.

I checked my calendar. I had nothing else going on that day, and although I had no fucking idea what was going on, this Dana Einstein was giving me an excuse to get out of the house. I accepted, with reservations.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **There was a proposal a few years ago to replace the House of Lords with a mostly-elected Senate. This is a world where it happened.


	2. Camera

**A/N: **I assume you all know what yaoi is.

…

I got to the café ten minutes early, but Einstein was already there. She waved me over to her table on the patio and introduced herself ("Call me Dana"). She was about my mother's age, and looked like she could be anybody's aunt.

We ordered lunch, and no sooner had the waiter left than Dana got down to business. "So tell me, Sarah, is Arthur Kirkland everything you wanted?"

"I'm learning to be careful what I wish for," I said guardedly.

She leaned forward. "You can tell me that you're not satisfied, that you feel betrayed," she said. I shook my head, suddenly afraid I'd start crying. "I know how it is," she said. "He lied to you; he said he loved you; and then you found out what he was." I nodded.

"But you can do something about it," she went on. "Avenge your dignity. And my boss has an offer for you that will allow you to do that."

"Who's your boss?" I asked shakily.

"Elizaveta Héderváry," she said.

_The Republic of Hungary_. A female Nation. "I'm listening."

"Are you familiar with yaoi?" she asked. I wasn't, so she explained briefly. As she talked, I felt my appetite slink away.

"My boss is in the business of making yaoi videos for export," she continued. "She also keeps a personal collection for…political reasons." I laughed, surprising myself. So even Nations use blackmail. "She believes that your talents will be useful in managing that collection."

"Managing…how?" I asked. Then our food came, and neither of us said anything for a while.

When I'd finished eating, I asked, "So how does Hungary's porn stash help me with revenge?"

"Simple. You're going to be adding to it." Dana pulled a digital camera out of her purse and set it on the table between us. "Tonight a man named Alfred Jones will be visiting Mr. Kirkland. Have you met him?"

"No, but I know his timing sucks."

"Mr. Jones will be spending the night; odds are…ninety-five percent in favor of them having sex. And when they do, I want you around the corner with _this_." She nudged the camera closer to me.

"You want me…to tape them…" I couldn't believe what she was asking me.

She nodded. "Record as much as you can, and meet me here at the same time tomorrow to give me the camera back."

The waiter came with the check. Dana insisted on paying.

"So, you'll do it?" she asked once the waiter was gone. I hesitated, and she said, "Remember, he deserves it." Then she got up and vanished into the crowd on the street.

I looked at the camera for a long moment; its lens stared blankly back at me. Then I put the camera in my pocket and walked away before I could change my mind.

…

I spent the afternoon locked in the guest bedroom I'd claimed when I'd moved in with Arthur, second-guessing myself. What Dana had asked me to do was invasive and offensive, not to mention probably illegal. But…I was still angry. And Arthur did deserve it.

I made myself a sandwich for dinner and ate it in the guest room. Alfred arrived, bringing fast food for himself and Arthur. They ate in the kitchen, while I crept into the master bedroom and started packing.

At some point I heard them move into the living room and start a movie—something sappy that Alfred had brought (he likes _that_? You're kidding).

At some point I noticed that the movie had stopped. Were they—I crept downstairs, camera in hand, and peeked around the corner. Yes—the TV was muted, and Alfred and Arthur—America and England—were making out on the couch.

I pulled back, embarrassed, then looked again. They hadn't seen me. They weren't coming this way. In fact, they weren't going anywhere. Alfred unbuttoned Arthur's shirt with intense concentration, then kissed him again and lifted one hand to trace those beautiful eyebrows (I could almost feel them under my own fingertips), and…

That should be me out there, I thought. The foyer suddenly seemed colder. I shook my head, turned on the camera, and started recording.

Alfred had the kind of body you'd expect to find painted on a Greek vase. And Arthur was…Arthur. Familiar and yet—here he was at his greatest potential. With me, he was a man; with Alfred, something strange and infinitely more beautiful. My embarrassment melted into horrified fascination, and the horror drained away as I watched. (Is _this_ what he likes? And _that_? I never knew…)

By the time they moved onto the floor, my heart was already racing my hands were shaking sweaty I was panting resting the camera against the wall—

—then England came, arching his back, moaning Alfred's name, _his_ and not _mine_, and cold reality asserted itself. I raced upstairs into the guest room and fell onto the bed crying.

Why couldn't _I_ have him like that?

…

I slept poorly, and awoke several times feeling lost. Finally it was morning, and I was the only one awake in the house. I showered, had breakfast, and wrote my father a short email saying that I'd be coming home soon. I left Arthur an even shorter note on the kitchen table, then left the house with my suitcase. I planned to meet Dana at the café, give her my video, and then go straight to Heathrow to talk an airline agent into getting me home.

As it turned out, Dana had other plans. Again, she was seated when I got there, and today there was food on the table. "I ordered you the falafel," she said as I sat down. I nodded and handed over the camera, which she slid into her purse without looking at it.

"So, how did it go last night?" she asked. I didn't know what to say. "Eat up," she urged. "You're coming with me when you're done."

"Where?" I asked through a mouthful of hummus.

"To Budapest, to meet the boss."

I considered this while we ate. Budapest was Hungary's capital; probably the best place to meet her. But how, on such short notice? And why? Had I passed some test simply by taking the camera?

No explanation of what the hell was going on had materialized by the time I finished eating and Dana paid for the food. We left the café together, and Dana picked up my suitcase with one hand. With the other, she grabbed my hand.

"Run," she whispered, and we ran.

…

**A/N:** The café is one of those places that tries to be classy and Mediterranean…I had my favorite restaurant in mind, but this place has outdoor seating and better falafel.

Sarah's response is modeled after how I got into yaoi fics. Including the starting with USUK.


	3. Action!

I felt like Alice in the looking-glass: running as fast as I could and getting nowhere. But when we stopped, everything was different.

"Where are we?" I demanded as soon as I had caught my breath.

"Budapest," my personal Red Queen announced. "Welcome."

"Budapest? Really? No shit?" I looked around. It did look like Budapest, as far as I knew. We were in a neighborhood full of apartment buildings; I thought I could see the river past the end of the street. "How did we get here?"

"It's a Nation trick," Dana said as she headed for one of the buildings. "If Miss Hungary likes you enough, she'll teach it to you."

* * *

><p>The building we entered looked no different from any of the others. Dana let us into a first-floor apartment. As I followed her inside, though, I felt my ears pop, and was reminded of the day I'd moved into Arthur's house, when the same thing had happened.<p>

The apartment was much more spacious on the inside than on the outside—or perhaps, given the way things were going, we were no longer in the apartment at all. We came into a sunlit dining room that seemed to be on the wrong side of the house for the sun to be where it was. At the table sat a pretty brunette woman about my age, watching something intently on a laptop.

Dana cleared her throat. "Miss Hungary," she said, "I've brought her."

The woman looked up (her eyes were green and lively; she wore an orange flower in her hair) and smiled. "Thank you, Dana," she said, then shook my hand. "It's nice to finally meet you, Sarah; I'm Elizaveta Héderváry. Would you like something to drink?"

"Just water, thank you," I said. Dana left the room, and I sat down.

It felt like any other interview—or would have, had my head not been spinning. How did I get here from London? Who was Dana, what did she do, what did they want me for? And what about that "finally"? How long had she been watching me?

Hungary solved the problem of what to say by turning the laptop toward me. The video she'd been watching was still running; it was of Alfred and—hang on.

"Is this the video I took last night?" I asked. She nodded. "How did you—" Dana came in with glasses of water, and set the camera on the table in front of Hungary, adding to my confusion.

"There's a transmitter in the camera," Hungary said, putting it in a pocket without a second glance. "It allowed me to watch your video as you recorded it. Not bad for your first time; I think we'll start your training today, catch you up on the basics this week, then send you back to London."

Training? "London? I can't go back, Arthur and I had—and _Alfred_, they don't need—why should—"

Hungary and Dana listened patiently to my incoherent protests. When I ran out of things to say, Dana nudged my glass of water closer to me, and I drank halfheartedly.

"Sarah," she said, sitting down across from me, "you can _always_ go back. In fact, you really don't have a choice. You're the only person who does your job."

"And don't say you're replaceable," Hungary said as I opened my mouth. "England's put a lot of effort into you this summer—more than I thought he would, given what happened with his last Escort."

"If you walk out now," said Dana, "Mr. England loses not only a secretary and a cook, but also a close friend and a vital piece of his political cover. Did he explain what would happen if his behavior were ever called into question?"

I nodded. "Yeah, but…" I hadn't believed it. Now, though, in another Nation's house, it started to make sense. On the other hand, the position they were offering me: was there anything to it besides watching Arthur and Alfred…

Yes, there was. I'd wanted to get into international politics, and here it was, at its most basic level. I was being offered a place behind the scenes…and it was probably the only opportunity I was going to get. I took a deep breath. "I understand, Miss Hungary. When can I start?"

"Right away." Hungary grinned. "Dana, why don't you give her the tour, and then come back here? I'll archive this." She shook my hand again. "Welcome to the team."

* * *

><p>I followed Dana through the house and downstairs, into a basement that looked like the half-built set of a spy movie. A half-dozen computers, most of them shut down, lined two walls. There were boxes and packing material everywhere.<p>

"This is the Ministry of Culture command center," Dana said grandly, waving at the computers. "As you can see, we're just getting started, but Miss Hungary expects to have agents installed with all the global powers in the next five years, barring a few personal exceptions." As an afterthought, she added, "And I'm going to want some help processing videos."

Dana led me to a corner of the basement that was set up as a lounge: couch, coffee table, fridge, television. A young couple sat on the couch, playing the new _Portal_ game. Standing behind them, Dana cleared her throat. They jumped, then paused the game and got up to greet us.

Dana gave them a Mona Lisa look. "Testing the electrical systems, Mr. Honda?" she said dryly.

The man bowed slightly. "It is done," he said, glancing at the girl who nodded.

"The computers had all better be running tonight," Dana said firmly. "We'll have two recruits this week, and Miss Hungary wants everything ready for both of them." Then she remembered that I was there. "This is one of them. Sarah Armstrong, from England. Sarah, I'd like you to meet Mr. Japan and his escort Amanda Toyoda."

Both Japan and Amanda were short and dark-haired, but that's where the similarities ended. Japan bowed serenely and muttered some traditional greeting; Amanda practically leaped forward to shake my hand.

"It is wonderful to meet you, Sarah!" she exclaimed in barely-accented English. "Hungary-san says you will be part of my team?" She gave me a quizzical look.

I shrugged. "She hasn't told me much of anything yet," I said, glancing at Dana, who bowed back and politely retreated upstairs.

* * *

><p>Japan went back to setting up the computers, and Amanda and I settled on the couch while she told me everything England and Hungary had already told me. I listened impatiently, and asked what an Escort was at the first chance I got.<p>

"That's what we are. We escort our Nations to political events, keep them safe from the media, and do anything else they require of us." The fond glance she directed at Japan's back gave me an idea of what "anything else" was, and suggested that she liked the job. I hoped things would go as well with England.

"Whose Escort is Dana?" I asked. Amanda surprised me by laughing.

"She isn't an Escort. She's German, and she goes to state events with Germany, but she's really Hungary-san's assistant. See, Hungary-san rescued her from Prussia when they all lived in the Soviet Union, and—"

"Prussia?" I echoed. I knew where the country was—where it used to be. "There's still a Prussia?"

"Yes, and Hungary hates him. He's always playing pranks and causing trouble—they say," she said, lowering her voice, "that he makes so much trouble so people notice him, so that he doesn't disappear from not being a Nation anymore." I didn't have anything to say to that. "What's your specialty, anyway?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm good with technology and fixing things, and Hungary-san says she's going to get a French agent for our team…so what's your skill?"

I thought about it. "I'm a linguist, and I speak Spanish and Chinese."

She squealed. "That sounds perfect! Wait…what does a linguist do?"

I explained: "A linguist studies how languages work, which makes me better able to learn more languages."

"Do you know any Japanese?"

"Not yet. Would you care to teach me?"

"Of course! It can be our secret language!" She paused. "That won't work. We need a language no one will know. Not even Nihon-san."

"Who, sorry?"

"Mr. Japan. He works for Hungary too, but we need something special." She thought for a moment. "Can a linguist invent languages?"

"Yeah, actually, they can. Have you seen _Avatar_?" Amanda nodded. "The aliens speak a language that was designed by a linguist for the movie. I haven't conlanged in years, but I'd love to do one for us." She grinned.

It hit me that this was the decision that committed me to Hungary's secret yaoi-collecting organization. It was time to get started meeting expectations.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** The transmitter in the camera is Japanese technology. Naturally.

Japan and Amanda first appear playing _Portal 2_ in Co-op mode. This was deliberate.

_Avatar_ isn't the only one. There are linguists behind Klingon (_Star Trek_) and Dothraki (_A Game of Thrones_). Not to mention Quenya and Sindarin—hell, Tolkien wrote _Lord of the Rings_ so there would be people to speak his conlangs. Does anyone know when Hug a Linguist Day is? If so, please mention it in your review

And yes, being French is a skill. For more on that, check out "Loaded With Charisma," or just stay tuned for the next chapter.


	4. Epilogue: The Yaoi Agent

The next week flew by without my leaving Hungary's House. I didn't really notice; my days were filled with my housemates' taking apart everything I thought I knew about history and politics.

I learned about the Nations, using the Greek gods as a metaphor. They fought (often), they fucked (a _lot_), and sometimes they formed cautious alliances (or not so cautious. I learned, for example, that Hungary still considered Austria her husband, even though they'd been separated for almost a hundred years.)

Historical events took on a whole new meaning, as the results of individuals' decisions, not always of governments'. So did geography—late in the week, I began to train myself not to snicker uncontrollably whenever anyone mentioned Cornwall or Florida.

I learned the beginnings of the basics of being a yaoi collector. Japan taught me about cameras; Amanda, how to speak Japanese. Dana taught me how to defend myself with kitchen implements, and Hungary introduced me and Amanda to her video collection. That was probably what I learned the most from.

* * *

><p>I also met the last member of my team that week. Jeanne-Marie Renard was a tall blonde Parisian who modeled for one of the big multinational clothing companies. Dana brought her in on the fourth day.<p>

Jeanne-Marie listened without comment as Amanda and I explained what was going on. "I'm a model" was all she said when we asked about her specialty. Her English was literal-minded and heavily accented; I had a field day dissecting it afterwards. She was bright, but not extremely. Her greatest asset was her beauty, and that made her perfect for Hungary's needs.

What Hungary needed was an Escort for France. As a member of what Dana had started calling Team One, Jeanne-Marie would be our ticket into the place where all the best yaoi happened. I'd seen enough of Hungary's videos by that time to agree: France was the best.

We didn't have much time to get to know her then; she spent most of her time training privately with Hungary. Dana assured us that bonding would happen in time, after Jeanne-Marie was part of France's household.

* * *

><p>On the seventh day, Hungary finally allowed me to use the Internet. I emailed my parents, telling them that whatever crisis I'd invented a week ago had been resolved, a friend of Arthur's had helped me through it, and I would be staying in London.<p>

Amanda laughed when she saw the email. "Who do you mean by 'friend'?" she asked in Japanese.  
>"I don't know," I said in the same language. "Aren't Hungary-san and Japan-san friends of England-san?"<p>

"Not exactly...is what I would like to say," she said; she continued in English. "Miss Hungary's relationship with the other Nations is...complicated, besides that she loves Mr. Austria and hates Prussia. Mr. Japan, on the other hand...Mr. England is still sending him aid for the nuclear meltdown, and they see each other relatively often, but..._friend_ isn't a word that applies to Nations, really. We use _ally_ instead." And she taught me the Japanese word for it.

* * *

><p>On the eighth day, I packed up again, and Dana ran with me back to London. She left me at England's front door, promising me another week of training next month. She also gave me a piece of advice, before she left for the cafe: "Make him want to keep you."<p>

I considered that, as I waited for England to answer the door. What could I say, first thing, to get his attention? Something from Shakespeare. I didn't know enough Shakespeare. But I did know some useful—

He opened the door, and his eyes lit up when he saw me. "Where have you been?" he asked.

"I came from under the hill," I said slowly, trying to get it right, "and under the hills and over the hills my paths led."

"And through the air?" he asked, embracing me in the doorway.

"I am she that walks unseen," I laughed, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

* * *

><p>Later he asked me whether I was staying. "Of course," I said.<p>

And some time after that: "So where _were_ you this week?"

"Budapest," I told him, and he seemed to accept it.

"Tell her I'm not signing anything," he said as I fell asleep. I would ask him what he meant in the morning. For now, it was enough that I belonged where I was.

* * *

><p>AN: There is canon evidence for AusHun. In the _Buon San Valentino!_ strips, not only does Austria send Hungary a gift (and Hungary is delighted to receive it), but Prussia, _in the same chapter_, is happy to be _alone_. [/rant]

The "useful" quote is from chapter 12 of _The Hobbit_. It turns out that England likes Tolkien as much as Shakespeare.


End file.
